My needs are simple, my wants are few...

This season, I want a clothes line. A simple thing with cedar posts sunk firmly in the soil, and a clean white rope stretched tight and high. I want to hang my freshly washed sheets out on a sunny day and see them snap in the wind, gripped tight by wooden pins. I want to gather the dry linens into an antique wicker basket, then bury my face in the fabric and breathe. Breathe.

The smell of sheets that have been dried by the sun and air and wind is one that sweeps me back in time. I can see my mothers clothes line, aluminum and unattractive, cloaked with laundry from a family of 7. I loved the crisp-rough feel of line dried towels against my skin. I loved the smell of blue sky caught in the fabric fibers and carried indoors. This season, I want a clothes line.